


Rememberance

by PersonyPepper



Series: Let the World Come at You, Love [16]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Sad Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersonyPepper/pseuds/PersonyPepper
Summary: Geralt’s memories have never been a problem before, he remembers the vivid red of Visenna’s hair when she left him, remembers the sound of grass crunching under his feet as he chased after her.He remembers the feel of the mutagens take hold, remembers the agony of being turn apart and knitted together. Geralt has memories of the screams of his brothers, the scent of their skin charring from the change, they hideous pops of their eyes and the sounds of their final breath, each one of them, but–He can barely remember the honey of Jaskier’s voice.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Let the World Come at You, Love [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898377
Comments: 9
Kudos: 115





	Rememberance

He can’t have been real, Geralt thinks, he can’t have been.

The sea breeze nestles into the pit of his lungs, enveloping him. The clear morning light shines from over the horizon; Jaskier can’t have been real.

Geralt’s memories have never been a problem before, he remembers the vivid red of Visenna’s hair when she left him, remembers the sound of grass crunching under his feet as he chased after her.

He remembers the feel of the mutagens take hold, remembers the agony of being turn apart and knitted together. Geralt has memories of the screams of his brothers, the scent of their skin charring from the change, they hideous pops of their eyes and the sounds of their final breath, each one of them, but–

He can barely remember the honey of Jaskier’s voice, barely remember the warmth and ice it held when Jaskier willed and wanted it to. He can barely remember the blue of his eyes, the soft touch of his lute-calloused fingers after a hunt. Gods, Geralt can’t even remember the glow on his flushed face after a performance gone well, a sight Geralt had once thought to be the most beautiful in the world.

A few months, and he has forgotten Jaskier. A few harsh words and he’s lost him. Geralt wants to scream his throat red, to scream his throat raw at how fucking unjust Destiny is; the memories of his happiness, his bard slip through his fingertips, leaving only the ill memories to haunt him.

Geralt tries to remember the sound of plucked lute strings, the quiet humming around a fire, and the horrid snores that would come after dinner.

Instead, all he can remember are a few muttered, dejected words and the scent of salty tears. He had to have been real, Geralt thinks, he had to have been real, for Geralt could never come up with words so heartbreaking and so heartbroken.

_“See you around, Geralt.”_


End file.
